


The High Note

by Tin_pot



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (Bagden), F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, each chapter will probably be a different song, every song in this fic is one that George Bladgen has covered, main ship is exr buuuuut, very gay, very pretty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tin_pot/pseuds/Tin_pot
Summary: Grantaire sings at a music cafe and none of the amis know.JMB, Feuilly, and Bahorel decide to try out a new cafe, not expecting anything surprising at 'The High Note'. Boy were they wrong.





	1. This

**Author's Note:**

> It's currently 2 am on a school night
> 
> Why
> 
> also Im sorry for the weird formatting something went wrong.

The Amis were rather somber tonight. Another "ABC" meeting had ended, and the topic was sexual assault, with the Brock Turner case flooding the news. Nobody was very high- spirited when the meeting closed. Enjolras reminded them that the next meeting was next Wednesday, same time, same place. Everyone began picking up their possessions, some staying behind to chat or meet up, others already walking towards the door. Grantaire exited as soon as the meeting was over, yelling something about a place to be over his shoulder. Bossuet, Joly, and Bahorel were huddled near the door talking about going out someplace to get a drink, after inviting Musicetta of course.

Feuilly stepped out into the crisp autumn air, breathing in deeply as he walked down the steps of the Musain onto the stone paved sidewalk. He loved the fall, the smell, the colors, _the aesthetic_. Autumn was a time for warm colors, warm drinks. More specifically, pumpkin spice lattes. He would kill for one of those. That's not an exaggeration, he would, and all the Amis know (but they probably would as well) (With the exception of Enjolras of course, he calls Starbucks “capitalistic coffee meant for pigs”).

He pulled out his phone to look up a coffee shop, some nice, small stereotypical Parisian café. Google proved to be useless, just recommending cafés he knew and had already memorized the menus at. He opened Yelp, which surprisingly brought up one cafe he'd never been to. _The High Note_. After looking it up, it seemed to be some sort of music café with live performers. Sounds nice enough, and it looked like most of the live performances were solo guitarists, sounds even nicer. Just as he was about to put his phone back into his pocket, a large arm slung around his back, causing him to almost drop it.

"Hey babe, what'cha doing after this?"

"Jesus Bahorel, you scared the bejibers out of me"

"Ah, Feuilly, ever the vocabulary."

Feuilly shrugged the arm away and started walking with his boyfriend and friends.

"I was going to try out a new cafe, 'The High Note'?"

"Oh, I heard Jehan say something about that one, don't really know anything about it, though. Care if JMB join us?"

"The more the merrier."

The small group continued walking down the road, small puddles dotting the sidewalk. The High Note was on the corner of Rue des Écoles and Rue des Carmes, about a nine- minute walk from the Musain. They strolled up Boulevard Saint Michel, crowded as ever, tourists and other citizens shuffled along on the sidewalk. The trees lining the street were colored beautiful red, orange, and yellow, as if the sunset was painted on every leaf. Paris in Autumn was truly the most amazing sight on earth. Pale grey and cream buildings stark against the icy blue sky, dashes of green where plants had been placed on windowsills and balconies. It was the city of love, not just for romance though, love for life, love for the earth.

The group turned onto Rue des Écoles, passing a small trolley carrying souvenir shirts and magnets. The small cinema, Le Champo, sat quietly on the corner of Écoles and Champollion, yellow flowers gushing from the windowsills above.

“How far away is this café you were talking about? I’m tired.” Joly whined.

“Oh, stop your complaining, it’s just past the university.” Feuilly replied, ignoring Bossuet whispering “Hi tired, I’m Bossuet”.

“These are stylish shoes, not walking shoes. Can we call an uber?”

Bahorel laughed,”Joly I swear to god, it’s like, 240 meters away, I think that you can survive.”

“Well, you aren’t wearing stylish shoes, Mr. Ratty Sneakers.”

“Come on Bahorel, fashion hurts.” Bossuet piped in.

Feuilly joined the small conversation, muttering “ra- ra fashion lady” under his breath.

“You guys are awful, I’m leaving you.”

“Ah, but you can’t, you don’t know where to go.”

 “Bahorel, I’ve lived in the city since I was eleven, I think that I can find my way around, or at least, my way to a bus stop” Joly replied sharply.

“But think of it this way, if you leave now you won’t be able to try out this new café with us.”

 “You make a compelling point.”

“Guys, you bickered so much that we’re almost there. See, right on that corner, big black and white sign." Feuilly pointed to a café on the corner of the street.

“Ah, freedom”

“Ugh, come on you guys”

They all walked to the small café, tiny potters were sitting outside the door and chairs and tables were scattered without coordination under the overhang. The inside was very darkly lit, someone already singing on the stage towards the back. They sat down in one of the corner booths near the stage, slightly darkened but overall pleasant. The person singing was not the best, but she played the guitar very well, carefully drawing out each note. A waiter came to their booth asking what they would like, and each of them ordered different caffeinated drinks with sweets or pastries.

The woman playing finished and stood up, receiving a round of applause as she walked off. The apparent M.C. appeared on the stage and announced the next performer, a young man named “Antonin” who was singing solo. The singer was quite good this time, singing a song from a random musical. While the man was singing the waiter brought them their drinks and food. Feuilly and Joly had ordered lattes while Bossuet ordered an Americano. Bahorel ordered something called a “dead man walking”. It had six espresso shots brewed into a cup of coffee, which was probably lethal, but apparently tasted ok. Bahorel said that he felt a spark when drinking it, to which Feuilly replied that it was his heart restarting.

The atmosphere of the café was peaceful though loud. It smelled of coffee and cakes, and the soft sound of the man singing was beautiful. The café was so close to the Musain, they were surprised that they had never come before, and they would most definitely be coming back. The man singing finished with a bow, and his applause sounded even louder. The M.C. strolled back onto the stage, and announced the next performer. Someone by the name of “R”.

Bossuet leaned in and whispered,”Haha, that’s funny, ‘R’ the letter Grantaire always- holy shit.”

Joly looked at him confused, “What, what are you- holy shit”, He said as he looked at the stage.

There, right in the middle the stage, sitting on a stool sat Grantaire, one leg crossed over his lap, hands on his guitar. The group at the booth gawked at him, but he didn’t seem to notice them. He didn’t even know that they were there.

“Holy shit”, Joly whispered again,” Is that actually Taire up there.”

“Shhhhhh I think he’s starting.”

 

“Hello again, today I’ll be playing ‘This’ by Ed Sheeran. Hope ya’ enjoy and remember to check me out online, raregrantairemusic.com. “

 

“What the fuck, he’s a regular here.”

“raregrantairemusic.com”

“SHHHHH ok now he’s starting”

 

The first chords drifted through the air, slow and beautiful, the music flowing through the café. The group was still staring wide mouth when Musichetta walked up to the booth.

“Um, is that Taire? What the hell, that’s taire.” She said staring at the lone man singing on the stage.

_This is the start, of something beautiful_

_This is the start, of something new_

 

“I knew that he was good at singing but Jesus Christ this is amazing.” Bahorel muttered. “Why did he keep this from us?”

“Well, you know R, he’s probably embarrassed.”

“Hell, embarrassed about being able to sing like an angel?”

 

_You are the one who'd make me lose it all_

_You are the start of something new_

 

_And I'll throw it all away_

_And watch you fall into my arms again_

_And I'll throw it all away_

_Watch you fall, down_

_You are the earth that I will stand upon_

_You are the song that I will sing_

The group at the booth was still staring open mouthed at him, Joly had taken out his phone and was recording the song. No one understood why Grantaire kept this a secret. With talent like this, all of the amis would come to watch the performances.

‘That’s probably why he doesn’t want us to know’, Joly thought to himself. ‘R has the right to keep secrets’, He reminded himself, even if it hurt a little that he wasn’t trusted.

Grantaire was still singing on the stage, the song building up for the climax. His voice slowly raised and his posture straightened. The guitar sat in his lap, his fingers slowly strumming the strings. He was truly beautiful sitting on the stage, seemingly peaceful. His eyes were closed and he was leaning forward to the microphone.

The song was ending, his voice dropping suddenly after the climax of the song. He finished on a low note, his guitar playing a few cords after he had stopped singing. It was silent for a few seconds before the café erupted into applause. Grantaire smiled and started putting his guitar into his case.

“Thank you, I’m here every Wednesday and Thursday afternoon.”

 

“ _What_?” Back to the whispering.

“ _Every_ Wednesday and Thursday?” Musichetta sipped her coffee, her surprise was mirrored by everyone at the booth.

“Damn we’ve missed a whole lot”, Bahorel stared at the spot on the stage where R had just left and another singer had taken his place. There was a long silence at the table, everyone was still processing the fact that one of their closest friends had a secret singing life. The silence was broken by Joly.

“So, er, should we confront him about it? I mean, I do have it on video but I’m not going to share it without his permission.”

Bahoral thought for a few seconds before deciding how to answer.

“No, no, let’s not… You know what, he kept it secret for a reason, and we have to respect that. He doesn’t know that we were here, we don’t need to mention it. Maybe, in the near future, we can sort of reveal that we know though? You guys are awful at keeping secrets. I’m looking at you, Bossuet.”

“I’m offended.”

“I do kinda want to check out his website though.”

“Yeah, ‘raregrantairemusic.com’. Like, jeez, he’s been living a double life. What the hell?”

Musichetta piped in, “The real question is, why isn’t he using his talent for profit? With his voice he could be making money, right now he lives in a one bedroom apartment and sustains himself with ramen noodles and apple juice.”

“Living the life”, Bahorel muttered.

“Where do you go once you’ve reached the top?” Joly said with a wink.

Feuilly rolled his eyes, “You guys are awful.”

“I agree”, Musichetta said with a grin.

The group began cleaning up, putting their belongings away and stacking the dishes.

“Damn, this is a great café, too bad we can’t come back.” Bossuet grumbled.

“Why can’t we come back?” Joly asked, tugging back on his army jacket.

“Um, hello? Were you not here for the past 45 minutes? Grantaire. He sings. We know his deep dark secret and he’ll find out?”

Joly looked at him with a grin, “And who ever said that he would find out?” He asked as they stepped back out into the Parisian sun.


	2. Udate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry

Hey guys, this is an update I'm adding to all of my works. My computer broke a few months ago and I lost everything. Everything from the past five years is gone, and that includes all I had written to update for my fics. I'm currently swamped in school and don't have free time to write, but I get off in four weeks. You can definitely expect an update to my works around that time (I will be using my friend's laptop). Thank you all for your patience, I know it's been forever since I updated. Thanks for all the support.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna cry here's George's cover of 'This'  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysKxazYnih4)
> 
> Every song is one that George Blagden has covered, the ones I have so far are 
> 
> -Apologize  
> -This  
> -Halleluja  
> -I will follow you into the dark (cries)  
> -Leave
> 
> if you have any more, please comment them.
> 
> Please leave comments and Kudos!!


End file.
